


Dating

by Flameysaur



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Post Season 3, Swan Cricket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flameysaur/pseuds/Flameysaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie and Emma are not dating. Neal is within his right to fight for Emma. Archie is not jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dating

**Author's Note:**

> I try hard to be respectful to both Neal and Swanfire, but this does show it in a negative light (since it's a Swan Cricket fic). Just be aware if you're also a passionate Swanfire shipper.

Archie Hopper was not dating Emma Swan. It’s impossible to be dating someone you slept with twice and never actually took out on a date with before she confessed her love to someone else and ran off to another world.

Not that Archie blamed Emma for any of that. He understood, truly understood, all of Emma’s actions. It was something that shocked Emma the most. It was why that first time even happened. Emma had come over, worried and stressed and happy he was alive and it, to put it as mildly as possible, “just happened.”

Even Archie wasn’t sure what happened, but he had been happy. His crush on Emma had been his quiet secret, something he’d planed to carry with him to the grave. Or it would fade, unnurtured and unacknowledged. She was the definition of out of his league.

So maybe that’s why he never even thought to ask for anything when Emma ran off to Neverland. Henry was more important. Henry was everything. As a therapist, he had been happy to see Regina and Emma able to put everything aside for their son. He was glad to see Emma’s emotions bursting out, because sometimes you must fall to stand straight. He was happy that Henry had two mothers who would move literal worlds to get him back.

As a man…Archie tried very hard to not think of himself as a man. As a man, he was weak, selfish and even cruel. As a man he had hurt people to avoid being hurt, destroyed a family just because he was too cowardly to leave.

He’d asked no promise of Emma and gave none in return. For Emma Swan, promising forever was guaranteeing never.

So maybe that’s why it was a punch in the gut to have Neal, dead, gone, disappeared Neal, return with them, promises of forever on his lips and dreams of broken family put back together in his eyes.

Emma was Emma, silent and stoned face. But she wouldn’t make eye contact with Archie and for him that was answer enough. Something happened in Neverland. Something emotional.

If it was physical, Archie could shrug it off. Emma was a physical person, finding actions so much more comfortable than emotions. More importantly, she could shut herself off in actions. A kiss, a caress, even sex, could be nothing to Emma Swan. She had the swagger of someone who knew what it was to disconnect from a fist before it struck. Those people never stopped hitting.

Archie knew.

But emotions, for Emma Swan, were impossible to deal with. He watched her, at Granny’s, as he sipped his coffee and pretended she wasn’t avoiding him. She came in for Henry, refused to look up from her boy. She clung to him and Henry allowed it, because he was clinging back.

Something happened in Neverland to him too. Archie wanted to talk about it, to bring him out, but Emma and Neverland were tangled so tightly together that his tongue stopped. That’s why you didn’t get involved with a patient, or his mother. It stopped you from digging deeper like you should.

Archie always failed as a man.

Neal stepped into the dinner and Archie tried to pretend his grip didn’t tighten around his mug. Neal wore the same face he always did around Emma, half love sick puppy and half sad hound dog. Archie knew better than to think these thoughts. To see Neal as a pest, as an obstacle. He was a good man, Archie was sure. (Though how anyone could have Emma Swan and leave her behind, even for a broken curse. For Henry and Emma to be out, alive and happy and _whole_ , Archie would damn the whole town. And yet again, his selfishness, his cowardness shone through. He loved this town but the thoughts came anyway.)

“Emma,” Neal said her name like a prayer, then dropped down to smile at Henry. He was good with the boy, with easy smiles, and warm tones of voice. He moved his hands slow around Henry, with gentle pets and soft grips. Even Archie’s jealousy couldn’t follow there. Neal was a good father. “How are you both?” he asked, looking up at Emma.

She looked around the dinner, eyes lingering on the exit. They glided over him.

“We’re fine, Neal.” And Emma jerked Henry back a little fast. Archie’s heart broke. _Don’t use the boy as a shield, Emma._ He wanted to tell her. It wasn’t fair to Henry, who’d had his mother’s feelings override his own too many times, but Emma was in panic mode. Her eyes kept going to the exit.

“Good, good. That’s good.” Neal smiled, big and bright and, damn him, handsome. Archie drank more coffee. “So, uh, I was thinking. Maybe we could, do something. As a family.” he looked down to Henry. “Movies, maybe.”

“We don’t have a theater.” Henry piped up. Neal grinned.

“There are places outside of Storybrooke.”

And that would end the debate. Henry loved leaving Storybrooke, it was only just barely allowed and Henry marveled at leaving the town without anyone being hurt.  Emma would have to agree. She was a good mother too. Archie wondered if Neal even saw the cage he was building around Emma.

Probably not. He was his father’s son, no matter what he wished. Cages came natural to him, even as he strove so hard to free his loved one.

Emma agreed. Archie heard it was a lovely time. He stopped going to the dinner.

 

* * *

 

Archie was a busy man, no matter what some people might believe. He was the only therapist in town and while the “big players” in town might not visit him regularly, many of the “masses” certainly did. Geppetto and Pinocchio were only two of his steady visitors, though they were a mix of a friendly discussion and actual therapy. Geppetto worried about the man who died to give him back his son. Worried more because he had barely known the man and felt guilty relief every time he looked at his boy.

Ruby came in regularly, discussing the wolf and her own lingering guilt with the murders and her actions while under the curse.

“The men, so many men. I’d only had Peter before.” She confessed once. “I don’t know how to get that into my brain. The memories are there, the joy is there, and yet…”

Couples counseling was regular, husbands and wives split up, sleeping with other people only to wake up and realize they were apart. Peasants raised above their lords and remembering all of history and equality and unsure they wished to return to toiling earth and soil. Even Belle had come and confessed to marking down the days that her True Love was gone.

“I can’t sleep with any windows closed. I’ve gone back to his house. The apartment is too small.”

Now Rumplestiltskin is back, and Belle’s dance of True Love and endless doubt had started up again. Still, she returned, discussing her thoughts and issues.

Archie was a very busy man. He had no time to brood. Even as rumors of more dates between Emma and Neal trickled in. The worst part was Henry always seemed to be involved. Archie didn’t know if that was reason to hope or despair. So he did both, depending on his mood and sometimes at the same time.

He was definitely not brooding when there was a knock at his door. He might be drinking the coffee he couldn’t make half as well as Ruby and staring at nothing, but he was definitely thinking of King Midas and his daughter—their cursed selves were bitterly estranged and even with the love and loyalty returned, the memories clung, dark and poisonous—and not Emma’s latest date. He would not cling to her, not when she made her choice clear.

The knock came again, fast and hard, before Archie could even get out of his chair. He opened the door in the middle of the third knock and Emma stood in the small hallway, ready to spit nails and eyes burning.

“Em-emma.” Her name tangled in his tongue and he said it like a gasp. She thrust wadded bills into his hands and stalked into the room. “What’s this?” he stared stupidly at the money in his hand. It looked like…

“That’s enough for one hour, right? I asked Belle.”

“Oh, um, of course.” He didn’t count the bills. They were warm and crunched, like she shoved them messily into a pocket a while ago. Automatically, he smoothed them out and made it so they were all facing the same way. Then deliberately not looking at the amount, he slipped them into his pocket. “You…want to talk?” He bit his tongue to stop himself from adding “about Neal?” He shouldn’t talk to her, there were a million reasons he shouldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t be an objective, but empathetic ear.

She was beautiful. Standing in the middle of his neat office, hair of gold, eyes of fire. She brimmed with life, with energy, with _strength_. Her hands balled into fists and her chin was up in angry defiance. He wanted to kiss her. Now, after everything, with Neal somewhere outside, existing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and beg she chose him. He wanted to promise forever, and that he’d never stop fighting and that she was his True Love even if he couldn’t be hers.

But that wasn’t true. He would stop fighting. He’d stop fighting the second she said no. Maybe that’s why Neal was her True Love. Maybe she needed that.

“You never came for me.”

“Wh-what?”

“After Neverland. You never…You didn’t say…damnit, Archie. Was it nothing?”

“No!” He stepped forward, arms out, ready to grab when he stopped. She was tense, shoulders together, jaw clenched. She didn’t need more tight spaces, more inability to run. He stepped back, and made sure she had a clear way to the door. “No, Emma. It was never nothing.”

“Then why didn’t you…talk, fight?”

“Neal?” Archie looked at his hand. They were larger than people expected. He had his father’s hands, but soft. His calluses weren’t over his knuckles or on his palm, but at the edge of his finger from holding a pen. Neal wasn’t a large man, but Archie knew he was like Emma, could disconnect from body and fight, but he’d run, the second he could. Which is smart. “Would that have made you happy?”

“That’s not the point. That’s what guys do.”

“It’s entirely the point. You wouldn’t look at me, Emma.”

“How am I supposed to look at you when you’re never around?” she snapped. Archie didn’t mention that he was around a lot, at first. He’d shown up when Hook’s ship came ashore. He was at the welcome home party. He’d been at Granny’s, walked her paths, but she didn’t look at him. So he left.

“Emma…”

Her jaw clenched tighter and she looked above him instead of at him.

“Neal wants to move in. He wants to give the family thing a shot.”

“What do you want, Emma?”

“Henry is so happy. And I…I love him.” Her voice cracked on the word love. His heart shattered. But somehow that was easier. Now that the worst was over, he could be the therapist she deserved.

“Do you want to live with him?”

“I want…” She turned away from him, looking at her feet. Archie took a step closer. She sucked in breath like a dying gasp, quick and sharp. He wanted so badly to hold her, to press her tight against him until this world was kind to her. But he wasn’t a fighter. He couldn’t protect her. “I’ve never stopped loving him. He was…everything I wanted. And he _left_.”

Anger was a tight, hot ball of pain in his gut, but he said nothing. Her hands shook at her side and she wouldn’t look at him.

“And it was easier when he was gone. But he came back. He came back and Henry loves him and he’s good with him and I love him and he loves me. That’s supposed to be enough.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘supposed to be’.” He couldn’t hold back now. His hands found her shoulders, her arms. She leaned into the touch and like a dying man given a drop of water, he moved closer, needed more. “You’re a good mother, Emma, strong. Whatever you choose for you, will never be the choice for Henry. You will never cut him off from his father.”

“Never.” Emma’s voice shook, but it was as strong and sharp as a sword and Archie smiled. He stroked her arms, hovering close but not close enough to be a hug.

“But you don’t have to live for Henry, Emma. You can be happy. You’re allowed. What do _you_ want?”

Emma’s eyes closed. She turned towards him but stepped away. His fingers burned to stroke her again, his arms ached to pull her back, but he stood there, waiting.

“I want to know why you didn’t fight for me.”

“I’m never going to fight for you, Emma Swan.” Archie said softly, but his traitorous hands grabbed hers. “I’m not here to put my emotions on you. You are strong and smart and bold and brave. If you want something, you’ll take it. I’m here for you, whenever you need me, whenever you want me.”

Emma looked up at him. Tears rimmed her eyes and her jaw still clenched.

“I don’t want to live with Neal.” She whispered.

“Then don’t.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“ _Yes_. It is.” He hadn’t meant to snap that first word. Any more than he meant for his hands to tighten on Emma, or for the anger to burn in his voice. “ _You_ are not responsible for _his_ emotions.”

And she was in his arms. Mouth on his. Fire and anger and desperation were sweet on her lips. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. He didn’t try.

She was so slim and strong in his arms. His soft hands stroked over her body. Lips were firm and strong and battled his. He parted his lips as she plundered. Her hands found his hair and locked him in place. She was so strong, his hero, his savior.

“I love Neal.” She whispered against his lips. “But I can’t. I can’t. He left.”

And Archie understood. He always understood Emma. He kisses her more and knew whatever he got, they were second hand goods. But he didn’t care.

“I’m never leaving.” he whispered. “I’ll _never_ leave.”

She grabbed at his sweater vest, tugging with more aggression that she’d ever show. He pulled back, tugging at his tie. As soon as it was loose enough, Emma pulled shirt, vest and tie over his head with one practiced swing. Archie was impressed. He didn’t have time to think for long. She was back, with teeth and tongue and need. His hands slipped between them, clumsily working away at her shirt buttons before she pulled back again, ripping that off.

“Couch.” She ordered. Archie obeyed. She took off the rest of her clothes with almost mechanical precision. She was like that the first time they had sex too. Passion mixed with distance. She walked to him naked, sun from his window gleaming across her skin. His stomach clenched and if he wasn’t hard before, he was now, throbbing. She kneeled in front of him, hands reaching for the belt.

“Emma.” He said, reaching for her, but she had him out and was stroking. Archie groaned. Emma watched him as she pleasured him, almost lazily so, but her eyes drilled into him.

“I haven’t.” She said. “Since before Neverland. I haven’t besides you.”

Archie’s eyes closed, his breaths coming in sharp pants. It shouldn’t matter. They promised each other nothing.

But pleasure was a delicious knife in his gut.

“Me…either.” he grunted. And Emma laughed before taking him into her mouth. He barely lasted a minute.

She didn’t swallow, but rose and grabbed a tissue from his desk. He thought of offering the small maroon box to many patients sitting on his very couch. She stood nude in his office, comfortable and confident. Slowly he took off his pants, blood rushing to his cheeks. He rose, still wearing sock, and walked behind her. He wrapped his bare arms around her, feeling soft skin brush against him.

“Archie…” She tried to turn around, to face him, but he pressed tight against her. He kissed at her neck, soft, sweet pecks as his hand traveled down. He wasn’t confident in the realms of love, any kind of love, but he was very good at being slow and patient. His fingers found her wet, but he teased her clit slowly, kisses feather soft. “I don’t like being teased.” Emma groaned, but it was a lie. Archie smiled against her neck and carefully moved his fingers over her opening, just avoiding popping in. Emma groaned. Her legs trembled, but still Archie teased.  His other arm locked around her waist.

“Do you know how much I watched you, Emma Swan?” He whispered, kissing up to his ear. “Getting coffee. Dealing with criminals. Badge at your hip.” He pushed one finger in. She was tight and wet and groaned so low it vibrated against his chest. He kept the motion steady, but began to speed up. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You don’t need to flatter me.” Emma gasped. “I’m already naked.”

Archie frowned, and slipped in another finger. She groaned. She always said things like that to his compliments. He didn’t like it.

“It’s not flattery.” His pace picked up, faster, harder. She thrust her hips back, meeting his fingers. “You’re gorgeous.” A kiss. “Beautiful.” Another kiss. “Perfect.” A nip.

“Archie.” her voice was high, groaning out his name. She was close. Archie added another finger and teased her clit. “Yes.” She gasped. “Yes. Yes.” Harder, faster. She reached behind her, threading her fingers into his hair, moans going higher. She tugged, hard, when she came with a nearly silent groan and slumped against him.

He half carried her back to the couch, both of them slumping into it. She half laid on his lap, ass rubbing against his erection, but he focused on feeling her skin under his fingers. He didn’t know what this was, and he wanted to enjoy it.

“I want my own place.” Emma said after a minute of silence.

“Hmm?”

“I need a place away from Mary—Mom. She and Da—Dad. They want a kid. And I just…I need space away from them. I want a place for me and Henry. Just the two of us. Maybe… get used to this parent thing.”

Archie nodded.

“That sounds good. Redefining barriers is a great way to reach beyond the old and establish the kind of relationships you want.”

Emma laughed and turned around. She straddled his lap. Her eyes were bright and mischievous as she looked into his. She rubbed her wet slit against his cock.

“And what kind of relationship do you want?” She said it like a joking dare, but her eyes stared into his. She rose up and aligned herself.

“One with you.” He said honestly. She paused, staring down at him, arms on his shoulders.

“What kind?” she asked, voice oddly soft.

“Any kind.” He cupped her face and leaned into a soft kiss. They kissed like it was the first time as she slid him inside her. The pace was slow, hesitant, like it was all new. They said nothing. Small groans escaped them both when she picked up speed. His hands dropped to her hips, helped her as they moved closer and closer. His thumb found her clit again. She gasped, moved harder, faster. He buried his face into her shoulder, kissing and moaning by turn.

“Archie.” Emma groaned, slamming hard on him. She clenched him hard as she came.

“Emma.” he gasped and barely got her off before he came in his lap. They laid like wet noodles against the furniture he’d have to clean at least a half dozen times before his next appointment, both smiling.

They cleaned and dressed in silence. He wondered how much it would cost to just replace this old couch. He could put it in his apartment and keep the memories forever. Emma touched his arm, gentle and distant.

“I got to go get Henry…and talk to him about Neal.” She said. Shyness crept into her eyes. She got shy at the oddest times. Archie nodded. “But, Arch?”

“Yes?”

“I want any kind of relationship with you too. I…” She looked away, up, then too the door, then out the window. “I…don’t need you. I’m fine on my own. But…I want you. And not just for…” She waved her hand at the couch.

Archie smiled.

“However you want me, Emma. I’m yours.”

She relaxed, for the first time since entering his office. “Thanks, Archie.”

Archie Hopper wasn’t dating Emma Swan. They were so much more than that.


End file.
